Long Live The Mockingjay
by Laoise Potter
Summary: One-shot for now. How Madge Undersee did not die, but simply ceased to exist. From The Hunger Games to post-Mockingjay.


**A/N:** This is just a test run of a storyline; if enough people like it, I'll try to continue. It's a prologue of sorts—a prologue to the continuation of a story I don't think should have ended the way it did. Let me know what you think!

* * *

_**The 74th Annual Hunger Games**_

_At some points it's too hard to watch. I go for walks, sometimes with Gale, but usually by myself. I'll end up anywhere from the Justice Building to the Victor's Village to the Everdeen's house to the fence bordering District 12. Nobody ever stops me or asks me where I'm going because it's clear that I'm not really going anywhere. My only goal is to keep moving, moving until I can't move any more._

_When I'm with Gale is the only time I'll ever stop, and maybe enter a building. The Hob, the Everdeen's…I usually come across him as he returns from a hunting trip and help him carry the game to the trading post, and as he bargains I'll watch the Games on the screen near the ceiling. I'm in the Hob when the Careers take in Peeta, when Katniss drops the tracker jacker nest on them, for the killings of the girls from Districts 1 and 4, and for a few shots of my old friend spending time with District 11's female tribute, Rue. When Gale is done trading, I'll go with him to the Everdeen's and watch some of the Games with them. This doesn't happen often._

_The day Rue is killed, Primrose grabs not for Gale's hand, but for mine. It's unusual, when she typically turns to him for support, but at the same time I'm sure she's in need of an older sister's comfort. She leans into me as we listen to her sister sing and prepare the young girl's body for departure from the arena, and I squeeze her fingers when I feel her tears on my shoulder. The four of us—Prim, her mother, Gale, and myself—saluted Rue with Katniss (and all of District 11, I'm sure), and I leave almost immediately afterwards. I can't bring myself to return for the remainder of the Games._

_I don't watch the fighting for the rest of the day. Instead, I sit at my piano and play and write until my fingers are sore, wanting to capture every last note of Katniss's lullaby, every last harmony of Rue's song for the mockingjays. I fall asleep with the tune still in my head, wishing with all my heart that the Games would end and my friend would come home safely, as a victor._

* * *

_**Before the Victory Tour**_

_I know how to hunt now. Katniss has taught me. She needs something to do, to escape the memories from the arena. I'm not nearly as good as her, of course, but when I miss a shot she tells me to not worry about it. "It's only about seventy percent practice, anyways," she says. "Twenty percent of it is getting you in the I'm-going-to-hit-this-bird or that-squirrel-is-mine mindset."_

"_What's the other ten percent?"_

"_Luck."_

_In return, I try to teach her to play the piano. She's okay, but she likes to hear me play more. One day, I dare to transition from a very old piece by a composer called Mozart to the one I wrote for her and Rue. She notices the change and asks me to start from the beginning. I know the piece well enough that I could play it with my eyes closed, so instead of watching my hands, I watch Katniss. Her expression doesn't change, but I can see the arena reflect in her eyes. I'm sure the melody conjures up many memories; what is she seeing in her head?_

_When I'm finished, we sit in silence for a few moments. Then she stands up, kisses me like I did her before she was sent to the Capitol all those months ago, and asks me if I'll be coming around for dinner. I say yes, loath to deny her anything._

* * *

_**After the announcement of the Quarter Quell**_

_Peeta and Katniss are following an extreme workout regime under Haymitch's orders. I know of their plan—they mean to keep Peeta alive—but a large part of me hopes against hope that my friend will be able to find a way out of the Games' death grip once again. I help in the only way that I really can, by bringing them news of the goings-on in the Capitol and other districts through the papers my father receives. As the day of the reaping draws near, my father receives word of the heightened security plans for our district and warns me that there may not be time to say goodbye._

_Early in the morning of the reaping, I find Katniss and wish her luck, pinning the mockingjay pin on her one last time. She asks if I will come to the Justice Building again and I promise to try. We kiss and embrace like it's the most natural thing in the world, but both of us know the heaviness behind our touches. They are reserved for dark times, for want of comfort, for need of a friend. I watch her walk away until she's back in her house, out of my sight, and I run home to cry silently until the reaping begins._

* * *

_**The bombing of District 12**_

_Mere hours before the 75th Annual Hunger Games comes to an end, my father hires another servant. She used to be in my class at school and has been struggling to support her family ever since we finished. I convince my father to give her the job, help her earn some extra income, and she accepts eagerly. The girl stands thin and pale—she might be my height if her posture wasn't so poor—but a spark in her eyes gives me hope that she'd one day be able to return herself and her family to good health._

_Most of the houses in the Victor's Village, aside from Haymitch's, the Mellark's and the Everdeen's, are empty, and I have been using one's basement as a hideout ever since the reaping. As the mayor's daughter, I'm hardly given a moment to myself at home—the Peacekeepers knocking on our door every five minutes and my father constantly on the phone with the Capitol, frantically dispelling myths of a rebellion starting amongst our citizens tends to drive me crazy—so I decided to find a small place of my own where I could be alone for a while. There isn't much to it: a chair, a blanket, some books, some paper, a pencil and a small stash of food are just enough to keep away the real world for a couple of hours at a time._

_I leave that afternoon because I can't watch Katniss electrocute the other tributes tonight. I can't watch her electrocute _herself_. She's taking an enormous risk on her life, and I can't stand to see it happen. So I tell my family and our new trio of servants that I want to be with the Everdeen's when it all happens, and am able to slip away without consequence. On my way to the Village, I run into very few Peacekeepers, which is highly unusual nowadays. With a rebellion brewing in Districts 8 and 11, there's typically one on every corner to prevent any potential uprising. To be truthful, I'm more grateful than worried that I only need to dodge a couple uniforms on the way to my hideaway._

_I'm settled in my chair for only a few minutes when a humming noise catches my attention. I look up in surprise—my father usually warns me when we're due for a fly-over by the Capitol. As the noise of the aircraft increases, a familiar shout from across the street brings me to my feet. I hurry to the only window in the basement and stand on my toes to see what's happening. Gale is pulling Prim and her mother out of their house in a manner I can only describe as violent, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to get them out the door. Completely caught off-guard, I stand frozen until the three are out of sight, trying to decide whether I should stay put or follow them to see what's going on._

_The first explosion sends me toppling to the floor in shock. I scramble backwards on all fours as dust sweeps across the window, the drone of Capitol aircrafts suddenly deafening. Terrified, I gather my meager belongings and huddle into the strongest-looking corner of the basement as a second explosion rocks the foundation of the house. A third, a fourth, and a fifth blast frighten me under the blanket, and I realize that this is much bigger than the burning of the Hob or any man-made mine accidents: the Capitol is bombing District 12 right off the map of Panem._

_I curl into a ball, cover my ears, and try to escape the world I very well may be blown off the face of any second. I think about the rebellion, and wonder if it really has spread here without my—or my father's, for that matter—notice. Or is the Capitol just trying to head it off, and Katniss has done something crazy in the arena? Are the Games even over yet? What could have caused this? Six, seven, eight—I can't figure out if the bombs are exploding farther and farther away, or I'm slowly losing my hearing. I draw my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them, making no effort to stop the tears falling from my eyes. Katniss. My father. Mother. Gale. Prim. Are any of them still alive? Am I?_

_My head is spinning. I can't think anymore. I'm not even sure I'm breathing. My fear has reached an unthinkable peak, and all I know is terror. _

_Then, just as suddenly as they started, the explosions stop, leaving nothing but a ringing in my ears. Trembling, I lift the blanket off my head just enough to look around the room. At first, I'm startled to see how cloudy the room has become—then I realize it must be nothing compared to the devastation outside. I hold the cloth to my mouth as I stand on shaking legs and make my way over to the darkened window, tears still streaming from my eyes._

_I cannot see across the street. A dark cloud has settled over the Village, blocking the entire outside world from view. The panic that had simmered low in the moments I spent trying to wrap my mind around certain death bubbles up and threatens to send me into a tailspin. I force myself to turn away from the window, and bundle up my belongings in my blanket. Throwing it over my shoulder, I place my arm over my mouth and nose and carefully ascend the stairs._

_The street is ash. The Village is ash. The whole world is ash. I squint into the bright cloud, protecting myself from both the debris and the cruel, shining afternoon sun. A light wind nudges my side and begins to clear the air, allowing me to see the outline of the Everdeen's house. It's still fully intact. I turn my head both right and left; the Mellark's, Haymitch Abernathy's, and the other empty houses in the Village come into view, all completely unharmed. I spin in a circle, kicking up a cloud at my feet. Aside from a thick layer of gray, the Victor's Village is untouched. I don't understand. Where did the bombs land? What did they destroy?_

_Utterly confused, and with very little hope in my heart, I turn on my heel and force myself to move in the direction the rest of my District should lie. My head stays down for a long time—mentally and emotionally, I am unable to wrap my mind around the devastation that most likely lies ahead. It's so quiet here. A single question is clawing for my attention: has anybody else survived?_

_I finally look up when the grey under my feet begins to blur, desperate to find some color, but all I can see is dust. A sick feeling starts to spread over me…not from my stomach, but from my heart. There are no outlines of buildings here, no signs of life. Large, dark piles sit where buildings once stood, and no footprints but my own lie in the ash around me. A sudden, overwhelming urge to flee overtakes me and I start to run, vaguely aware of what my end goal is._

_Something trips me a very few moments later. I land on my side, smacking my head on another something when I fall, and bring myself to my knees with a moan. When I look down to see what tripped me, my stomach flips over. A corpse. Another one. Everywhere. All around me._

_I turn away from the debris-covered bodies of District 12 citizens and retch, unable to hold myself together any longer. Dead. They are dead. They are probably all dead. Gale. Prim. Mrs. Everdeen. When there is nothing left for my stomach to squeeze out, I stagger to my feet, seize my blanket-sack and run without looking back. I dodge every small mound in my path, trying my hardest to forget what they are and focus on my end goal. My parents. Even though I know, I have to be sure. I have to see. My father is the mayor. Surely, the mayor is more important than the Victor's Village? Surely, his life is worth saving? Surely…surely…_

_Instinct and memory tell me I've arrived. My legs stop moving and I slowly look around, feeling my breath become more and more shallow. The air has cleared almost completely and I can see there isn't anything here but a large pile of ash where my house once stood. Some unknown force pushes me to move forward another step…and I see them. All five are near where the door might have been. They tried to escape. They were on their way out when a bomb landed. They are all facedown. They are all dead._

_My knees hit the ground and I fold in half, shaking uncontrollably. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know they'll mistake our newest servant for me. It's like staring through time and space at my own demise; under all this ash, she looks just like me. I know they'll think we're all dead. I have no desire to make them believe otherwise. I don't want to be Madge Undersee anymore. I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to _be _anymore._

_So consumed am I by grief that I almost don't hear them in time. A single stride amongst the ashes makes little noise, but the feet of a marching troop of forty or fifty Peacekeepers puncture the wind with muffled stomps and raise an alarm in the back of my head. I look up and, the moment I realize I can't see them yet, stagger to my feet. I take my blanket-sack and run it over my prints, erasing any trace of my presence in the dust. I start to run again, dragging the sack behind me, and head back towards the Victor's Village. Hiding is my only option for now…it's my only chance for survival._

_I won't try to find the rebellion I'm now sure exists. I can't go there. I can't be the late mayor's weak daughter, a girl who can barely swallow her grief and fear for long enough to save her own life. As much as my heart aches to see Katniss, to know if she survived the arena a second time, I won't let myself become swallowed up by the past. There is no way to move but forward now. If I want to live, I must forget. I must let go. I must be…reinvented._

* * *

_**Many Days After**_

_I find woods, closer to the Village than the Seam. By following the broken fence for a long time, I arrive at the place Katniss took me to hunt and come across one of her bows in a tree hollow. Two sheaths of arrows are hidden nearby—I catch two squirrels for my first meal on my own, and many more in the days that follow._

_I play a deadly game of hide-and-seek with the Peacekeepers who pass through for regular Capitol inspections. After nearly being discovered the first couple times, it gradually becomes easier to avoid them, as they all take the exact same route through the halls._

_The television in the house still works and I am able to keep up with the rebellion's progression. My heart hurts the first time I see Katniss, alive and well and angry, on the screen, but that slowly becomes easier with time as well. The Katniss I grew up with doesn't exist anymore. This figurehead of the rebellion…this Mockingjay…is a grief-stricken stranger. I know that if she saw me, she'd think the exact same thing about me. The Madge she once knew doesn't exist anymore. Somebody else has taken her place in the world._

_When I feel bold, I steal across the street and look through Mrs. Everdeen's medicinal books. I learn what plants are best for makeshift bandages, what kind of poultice one should make for a burn, how to treat a fever. My new role will be the one of a healer—I want to give people the second chance at their first life that I never will have._

_People will return to District 12, I am sure. It's hard to keep away from something you know so well, even when tragedy has struck. Some will stay away, of course, but there is no doubt in my mind that we will live on. As I watch the Mockingjay and her friends prepare to fight the Capitol, I prepare to leave District 12. One cannot start two lives in the same place; not only is it repetitive, but it is dangerous for the mind, and therefore illogical of me to begin my journey to a new life where my old one was lived. I'll return someday, but only when my transformation is complete, and I can live and be loved as a new person. As far as the rebellion is concerned, Madge Undersee is the girl who gave Katniss her pin and, in turn, helped create the symbol of freedom in Panem. As far as the Capitol is concerned, Madge Undersee died with her family during the bombing of District 12. As far as I'm concerned, Madge Undersee is no more._

* * *

It has been twenty years since the rebellion against the Capitol. Madge Undersee lives on in District 12, known only as Healer Robin, and is happy to keep it that way. Long thought to be dead and long believed to be a refugee from District 11 are both her realities. Time and circumstance have changed her beyond recognition and nobody knows who she truly is…until one day, a simple goodbye gesture sends Katniss Everdeen into a tailspin. Is the quiet healer all who she says she is? Why does her kiss bring back memories of dark and bloody times? And if it's true- that the mayor's daughter, a final flesh-and-blood reminder of the old government, has survived apart from District 13's efforts- how will a revelation like this affect District 12? Are memories alone powerful enough to destroy a people? Are they powerful enough to destroy Katniss Everdeen, the girl who believed her fire ended Madge's life a generation ago? Everything Panem had buried, mourned, and left behind threatens to surface once again as Robin struggles against her past and Katniss tries to find out who she really is, risking her own sanity to uncover the truth.

"When I left the Capitol to return to District 12 for good, they lined the streets and all chanted: 'Long live the Mockingjay'. I thought of her, then; the one who gave me this pin. The one who so urgently made me promise to wear it during the Games. The original rebel. The one who I thought I had killed with fire. And now, I find she may be alive as another. One last relic of what this war was fought for. One last reminder of all I thought I could leave behind.

Long live the Mockingjay."


End file.
